Trust Fail
by Hayseed Socrates
Summary: This is a short and not very sweet one-shot brought on by the Season 6 promos. THIS FIC CONTAINS IDEAS FROM SEASON 6 PREVIEWS AND SPOILERS FOR THOSE. Lisbon's thoughts in a hotel room, trying to decide what to do, and why. I hope you find it worth reading.


I do not own anything about The Mentalist, and I am borrowing these characters for fun, not profit. No copyright infringement is intended.

**CONTAINS REFERENCES TO SPOILERS FOUND IN THE SEASON 6 SNEAK PEEKS AND PREVIEWS**

AN: I wrote this simply because I've been trying to work out in my mind just how Lisbon decides she needs to betray Jane's trust, and because I'm going nuts waiting for the Season 6 premiere. I concluded writing was my best therapy. It's short, and decidedly unsweet. I hope you find it worth reading.

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Teresa bolts upright in bed with a gasp, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. She's disoriented, and she squints into the murky light. It takes a few seconds for her eyes to adjust, but soon she makes out the worn dresser, a table cluttered with papers, the partially open drapes. A hotel. She's in a cheap hotel, and she just woke up. _It was all a dream, thank God._ Her tank top is drenched with sweat and she's still shaking as everything comes back to her. She was exhausted and she had stretched out on the bed just to rest her eyes for a moment…

She swings her feet to the floor and turns on the bedside lamp, hoping more light will help solidify the real world and calm her jangled nerves.

_God, that was horrible_. She can't stop the dream from playing over in her head. Jane called to say he had devised a plan, and told her to wait for another call. The phone never rang, but Cho appeared in Jane's car from out of nowhere and she was suddenly in the passenger's seat. _Boy are dreams weird. _ It was disconcerting to see him driving Jane's Citroen, and she kept repeating, "I don't want to go! I don't want to go." But Cho drove on, silent and impassive.

In a dream's instant, they arrived at a crime scene amidst the trappings of a small time carnival. The forensic people were all dressed as clowns as they shuffled around like zombies, doing their work, and Teresa could see a body lying in the center of an outdoor stage. She stopped and told them she didn't want to see, but dozens of hands pushed her forward. Then, much to her horror, she noticed her own phone number, drawn in blood on the wooden platform.

Teresa could smell the day old stench of blood and she felt sick, but the hands kept pushing her, closer, closer. Just as she feared, Jane's body lay in the center of the stage, his eyes open in a blank, lifeless stare. His hair was clotted with blood, and his chest was cracked open to reveal a motionless heart. She tried desperately to back up, to run away, but the hands wouldn't let her. Then she heard her father's voice, yelling in a slurred, drunken tirade. "Where were you, Reese? Where were you when I needed you?!" And that was when she woke up, terrified and hyperventilating.

She shudders again, just thinking about it. It was so vivid, so real. Teresa gets up and heads to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face, and it works wonders to situate her back in the present, on solid ground.

_None of that happened,_ she reassures herself. _Jane is just fine. My father is dead. It was just a stupid bad dream. Okay, a nightmare. Napmare. Whatever. _Despite the disturbing realism of the experience, she's relieved to know it existed only in her slumbering mind.

Teresa takes a deep breath and stares at herself in the mirror. It's no mystery why this is happening. This moment has been so long in coming – ten years - that she's somehow managed to pretend it would never come. _Maybe that's all that's kept me sane, who knows?_ But the time is finally at hand, and it scares her. In the very near future, Jane is going to either kill Red John, or be killed by him, and she is the only person who has a real shot at preventing either scenario.

She walks out of the bathroom and paces back and forth between the ugly orange drapes and the closet. The carpet is slightly damp under her feet, and smells of mildew, which would disgust her if she weren't so distracted. _What am I going to do?_

For years she's begged Jane to trust her. To share his thoughts. To treat her as a real partner. And wonder of wonders, he finally has. If she makes a move on her own now without telling him, he may never trust her again.

But Jane has never wavered about his intentions regarding Red John, and after seeing what he did to Carter, Teresa is quite sure he will proceed without a thought to his future. His recklessness will likely intensify now that Red John has gotten so far into his head. The truth is, she will need to protect Jane both from Red John, and from himself. Besides, she's in danger as well. Jane has worried about her safety all along, and if she suggests a course of action, he will say it is too dangerous. If she is to act, it will have to be without his knowledge. Should she break his trust?

Oh, it's not like _he's_ never lied to _her._ Or simply not told her everything, as he would put it. He let her worry about him for a whole six months while he was in Las Vegas, after all. And then there was the whole Lorelei thing, which maybe shouldn't bother her, but it does. He follows leads all the time without informing her, his boss.

Yet in her heart, she knows this is different somehow. Teresa has always hedged her bets with Jane, knowing she couldn't trust him completely, but now he has dropped _his_ reservations and trusted her implicitly with his list. Technically speaking, Teresa never promised she wouldn't tell. That doesn't make her feel any better at all, because she knows he expects and trusts her to keep his secret.

The whole situation is driving her crazy, but she feels she needs to do something besides sit here like a damsel in distress. She needs to be proactive in her own defense, at the very least. It's her team. She's supposed to lead.

Wasn't it Jane who said it was better to regret something you'd done than something you didn't do?

If she can figure out Red John's identity from that list of seven, or even get some good clues, Teresa might have a chance of taking him into custody and preventing more tragedy. And if she can, she must. She continues to pace until she's nearly convinced that action is the wisest course. Jane won't like it, but it's the right thing to do, she tells herself.

There's a small coffee maker on the dresser and she proceeds to make herself a cup. _It will clear my head, help me think._ As she watches the hot liquid drip into the carafe, she explores an idea. What if Grace could bug the suspects' phones with her new computer skills? If she had that information, it would be helpful, wouldn't it? Including Van Pelt might put her in danger as well, Teresa considers, and she _is_ responsible for the safety of everyone on her team – not just Jane.

She takes a sip of the hot coffee, burning her tongue in the process. _Damn it all to hell._ There's only one conclusion that she can draw, and she knows it – she must proceed. Teresa decides to explain the risk to Grace first and let her choose whether or not she wants to help. The phone is sitting right there, on the nightstand, yet she hesitates once again.

_God this is hard. He told me in confidence. He trusted me_. She's pretty sure he hasn't really confided in anyone in ten years. She paces a few more steps, but the image of Jane's cold, dead eyes from her dream keeps coming back to her. Teresa can't lose him. Not to that monster. Not if she can help it.

And she can't wait. She can't just sit here and do nothing.

"I'm sorry Jane," she mutters out loud and sends him a silent message in her thoughts. _I hope you can forgive me but I have to do this. You're not thinking straight. Red John is in your head, and I have to save you from yourself. I'd rather see you angry and betrayed than see you dead, and with this information we might be able to figure this out before something else horrible happens._

She picks up her phone and punches in Grace's number.

"Grace?"

"Hi, Boss."

_For you, Jane. I'm doing this for you..._

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**_AN: I don't know - did this make anybody feel better about what Lisbon did in the preview? I'm still not sure I understand what she did or agree with it, but I felt compelled to "do something" so I wrote this story. _**


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